Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
In a weird way, everything she’s saying is making me feel worse about how far I took things last night. Because Mack actually being a nice guy gives all of these swirling feelings validation. And boy oh boy, does that make things complicated.
“No offense, Katy, but I feel like I’m talking to a wall right now,” Anna says on a laugh. “I think you need to go drink some coffee. Wake up a little. And then you should call me back and tell me everything you’ve so selfishly kept from me about the last two days.”
“There’s not all that much to tell,” I say in an attempt to feign nonchalance.
“Katy, honey, I’ve known you for way too long not to know when you’re only giving me half-truths,” she retorts. “Anyhoo, I’ll be available when you want to call me and actually chat facts, okay? Love you!”
The line clicks dead, and I’m left wishing it would have killed me with it.
How in the h-e-double-hockey-sticks am I going to walk out of this bedroom and not burst into flames of embarrassment when I have to face my vacation roomie that I decided to give a masturbation peep show to less than twelve hours ago?
Thursday, March 24th
Mack
The red sauce bubbles as I stir through it with a wooden spoon, and the aroma of garlic bread emanates from the oven. The only thing I can see, however, is the image of Katy in the bathtub, touching herself while she looked at me.
It’s been a couple days since that night, but I’d be a liar if I said I haven’t had to take things into my own hands and make myself come a few times when the memory gets me too worked up.
It’d probably be more if I didn’t think Katy would get skeptical about why I need to take so many fucking showers a day. As it is, I’m clean as a fucking whistle.
Katy’s tits. And her thighs. And her hips. And the way her mouth parts when she comes. It’s all I can see. Her body may as well be tattooed on the backs of my eyelids. I have her moans memorized, and thanks to the music we were listening to, I know the exact rhythm she likes to feel against her clit.
It’s a mindfuck of epic proportions, and I don’t know how I’ve managed to play it so cool in front of her for the past seventy-two hours.
The moment she finally came out of her bedroom at lunchtime on Tuesday, I knew she was in her feelings about the decision she’d made the night before. She was nervous and awkward, so I made it my mission to be the definition of a cool cat about the whole thing.
I haven’t brought it up. I haven’t referenced it. I haven’t even given her a look that I thought had the possibility of making her uncomfortable. It’s as though, I, Mack Houston, am casually ignorant to what she let me watch that painfully glorious night, and as a result, she’s finally started to relax around me again.
Though I do have a feeling that’s why she’s been so adamant to only take ibuprofen since Tuesday. Vicodin has too much power over her carefully calculated control.
But fuck, the things I’d sacrifice to be able to witness her like that again. I’d give organs if I thought it’d get me somewhere.
She’s so fucking beautiful—more beautiful than I ever dreamed of—but she’s so much more than that at the same time.
She’s smart and funny, and when she’s not busy hating me, she’s the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met. When she lets herself, she can just go with the flow and live in the moment, even with her messed-up foot. Hell, the past three days, all we’ve done is hang out together. Eat meals together. Watch movies together. Even today, she sat on the beach for hours upon hours, entertaining herself with a book and a big bottle of lemonade as I paddleboarded and swam and occasionally dropped my wet body down onto the towel next to her.
She didn’t refer to me as a dog or an ass or an animal of any kind one time. I even caused sixteen large laughs, twenty giggles, and over one hundred smiles, for Pete’s sake.
It was a surprisingly fantastic afternoon. One that’s given me hope that I’ve officially gotten in her good graces and that I just might be able to overcome the challenge that is making Katy Dayton realize she should like me. Because I sure as fuck like her.
Hell, while Katy changed out of her wet bathing suit and washed the sand out of her hair in the sink, I ran to the market up the street and picked up a few supplies so I could make us dinner in another attempt to impress her.